


Dark Horse

by Claws2501



Category: Spooks | MI-5
Genre: Anger, F/M, Family, Friendship, Imprisonment, Love Triangles, M/M, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 11:02:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3379133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claws2501/pseuds/Claws2501
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ruth gets dragged back from cyprus and comes face to face with Harry and someone else from her past, someone she thought of everyday but had never considered meeting again... Yet now working in such close proximity to her Boss and former Love.  Lucas struggles with his own past, an angel and a demon has come to visit him: Oleg Darshavin- his interrogator, and the unknown brunette from so long ago who helped him in his darkest days in Russia.  Join the character's on a wild roller coaster that thrusts them deep into uncharted waters where the line between friend and foe is marred and sometimes the one that you don't want to trust is one that you love. (I suck at summaries so please read for a true account of what it is all about).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Angel

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all, this is my first spooks fan fiction but based on the obvious dynamic between Lucas North/John Bateman and Ruth Evershed. Deviations from canon appear almost immediately however please bear with it and let me know what you think of my writing style and the actual pairing too. Also I haven't actually been to a night club so this is one reason the chapter appears short, I literally don't know anything about the idea. But I promise the chapters will get longer.

The music was pounding, the words lost under the heavy bass speakers, the lights: bouncing around highlighting different areas of the club as people pushed around for space on the dance floor. John and his friends followed the crowd into the main atrium. John felt a tap on the shoulder and he leaned in to listen to what his best friend: Lucas.

“This is it” He practically yelled in his ear causing John to smile, two long years of no holidays studying and finally the gang was out the other side and enjoying their last summer together by kicking it off with two weeks in the party capital of Europe: Malaga. His other friends were starting to push forward propelling themselves to the bar and John couldn’t help his smile grow wider. They were mere hours into their trip and already it was in full swing exactly how they had planned it: party, fun and, have alcohol. 

“Come on then” John shouted back at his friend as they pushed through the dance floor. The two of them were young and at the school they were considered to be physically attractive so it wasn’t a surprise that soon John lost Lucas in the thong, his mate following a blonde girl to the other side of the club. That was another advantage the group: both John and Lucas had taken a language each at A-level. Not deterred by Lucas’s absence John pushed himself to the bar, using his height and build to push through a group of guys to come to a stop behind a group of females dressed in pink with badges displaying one of the group’s face. Hen party John thought to himself barely paying any attention as he ordered himself a jack and coke leaning over the bar and practically yelling and the alarmingly short bar tender pushing some euros towards him. 

“Aren’t you going to get us a drink then?” John turned around, a tap of the shoulder giving him a sense of direction in the darkened club to the female who had asked him. Part of the hen party John saw before correcting himself matching the light brunette girl to the faces on the badges: the hen of the hen party. He glanced over the other girls in slight distain before his eyes rested on the eldest of the group, her dark brown hair covering up her petite face, she was clearly not the most confident of the group but as she looked up John gasped. She wasn’t stunning, not exactly a cheap bird like a lot in the club but she held some sort of power of John that he couldn’t describe. Intrigued he glanced at the person who had originally spoken, she had folded her arms clearly not happy at the way he had been surveying them. Smiling he bent down towards her and yelled into her ear. 

“What would your group like?” Despite the close proximity to the hen his eyes were still surveying the brunette, taking in her garments: the way her dress stopped just above her knee and the fact she wasn’t wearing the new craze of killer heels. She almost certainly wasn’t John’s type of girl. So why was she capturing him so much? The girl had yelled out their order but as the tempo of the music changed he missed it and panicked, deciding to order blindly to the bar tender who had by this time returned with his Jack and Coke. He felt rather than heard the brunette snicker and blushed has he realized he had been caught out by her. Stop it John…Pull yourself together. In and out that’s what they were doing, most of the lads had girlfriends so they were being very careful about everything from Facebook details to lack of real phone numbers. He turned back, minus a few more euros to the group of women, all of who were looking at him expectedly. He desperately looked around for his two other friends: Max and Steve and spied them further down failing to grab a group of girls attentions. He smiled: John Bateman to the rescue. He put his mouth back near chief hen’s ear. “Would you and your group like to follow me?” he looked towards his mates who by this time had given up and staring open mouthed at him, he rolled his eyes at the goldfish syndrome. The ladies followed his gaze and very quickly nodded. Chief hen leaned towards his ear and spoke, her voice playful as she yelled back.

“Yeah, ok”. They filed past John going towards Max and Steve who were still standing there now looking vaguely alarmed. The brunette passed, eyes downcast, it was clearly not her choice of day out and that alarmed John who caught hold of her upper arm causing her to look up somewhat alarmed. He pulled towards her.

“What is your name?” he yelled hoping that the northern traits were well and truly hidden from her ears. She visibly relaxed and John breathed a huge sigh of relief. 

“Ruth” she all but whispered back but John didn’t miss a word, he wanted to grasp her full attention, a quick glance at his friends told him that Lucas had rejoined the group…alone. Clearly John had actually picked the girls for that night, but they were staring at him, trying to see him in the throng of people trying to work out why he was paying attention to the woman in front of him: Ruth. John looked her up and down again, she was beautiful, not pretty or hot like the other girls he would have gone for, but she was attractive.   
“Well Ruth…” John said trying to get as close to her as possible without seeming to be pervy. She looked around to him and his breath caught as he felt and heard her breathing. He knew she was looking at her friends for inspiration and he waited, shielding them amongst the sheer volume of people. 

“Would you like to dance?” Ruth finally asked, John missed it, not because he wasn’t listening but over the beat of the speakers her little mouse voice was just too quiet. 

“What?” he yelled back cursing as she seemed to shrink back and glance back at her mates, it seemed they were playing on her side as she repeated what she said before but a little louder.

“Do you want to dance?” she yelled back and John let out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. John pull it together he thought as he attempted to gather his scattered wits. He nodded but allowed his actions to speak for him as he took her by the waist and guided her towards the floor. It was packed and the smell of sweatiness was worse, John automatically started swaying to the music, trying to lead Ruth on with confidence she picked up on it and faced him. He leaned in to her. 

“Let go! Enjoy the night and follow me!” he cried out to her, the dance floor was packed and bodies were pressing in on all sites, it was easy the dance was more like a sway due to the lack of room. Ruth faced him and began following the tempo. John leaded in again. “I’m John,” he yelled at her, taking advantage of the closeness by sliding his arms around her, when she didn’t react he turned her around to face the live music that was going on. She nodded and then leaned backwards, her head resting on his shoulder.

“Where are you from John?” it was an honest question but as he mind flashed over the northern area which he had grown up in he felt a strange compulsion to not tell the truth. 

“North of England” he replied, predictably, John felt a slight shift in her body, not quite tenseness but not quite the relaxed shy girl from before. He felt a need to defend himself. “I’m studying at university in London in September” he yelled again, his body shifting as the music changed once more forcing Ruth to catch up. The woman really didn’t know anything about life. “And you?” he yelled fearing the end of the conversation as he enjoyed the closeness. 

“Translator” She said shortly, her body was dripping from the heat, and John through a short thought to the state of his own shirt but discounted it waiting for Ruth to supply more information. “I’m a translator at GCHQ”. John felt himself smile and look up towards the ceiling of the….

Lucas opened his eyes, the ceiling above him was dank, and an off white colour, the walls around him were tiled and the mold was the only supply of colour to the otherwise empty cell. The ceiling was close, closer because of him standing on a chair. Closer because of his shirt that hung down from the ceiling, taunting him… Ruth…. He had thought of her more and more through his jail sentence. He had told Oleg about her, spoke of how they had swapped phone numbers, of walks down the beach. Those were the wrong answers though, Ruth was not sugar horse… but in moments of quiet when his interrogator was alone with him, when he didn’t want to know about sugar horse. That’s when he had promised to find her, to help Lucas reunite with her…. Ruth… He closed his eyes again slowly counting the last moments of his life away, his legs shaking as he tightened the shirt around the neck, he opened his eyes again… Ruth… then he heard foot steps, his footsteps. He heard a call and arms wrap around his waist tugging at him…Ruth…but these hands were too strong compared to the mouse of a girl. The hands, the cry, they were in the distance as Lucas dumbly sat down accepting hug after hug from Oleg his mind only comprehended one word…Ruth…


	2. Oleg's plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second Chapter, as you can see I have actually got some of it written so might as well upload what I have.

_Oleg clung onto Lucas as he guided him back towards his cell, it was late but that wasn’t an excuse to stop interrogating such a prize asset as Lucas. The door creaked open as Oleg pushed him in, Lucas looked up at him causing Oleg’s face to crack. Those eyes that had once been so bright and blue were now dull, the blue fading almost to grey, his hair was sleek with grease: the integrators hadn’t let him have his shower that month. His limbs were shaking as he crumpled against wall staring at Oleg in expectation. He knew what was next he happened each night when interrogations went past lights out: when there were very few guards, possibly because they were down the town or in the bar reserved for those of a certain rank._

_“You weren’t very well behaved today were you?” Oleg spoke in his own dialect; Lucas could understand it and he didn’t like dirtying his tongue with the same language of his prisoner. Lucas just stared at him watching as Oleg approached him and, reaching out with a hand began to trace the pattern of the ship branded on Lucas’s arm…_

Lucas woke up, still feeling the sensation of tracing of his tattoos, his scars; he turned around and came face to face with his lover Sarah Caulfield. He smiled slightly as she blushed from being caught out.

“Sorry” she murmured her American accent dripping with sarcasm, Lucas acknowledged it bringing his arm over to cup her face, she backed away from it causing him to frown. “Who’s Ruth?” She asked timidly cowering away from him. Lucas froze trying to recall all of his dreams last night but only thinking of Russia, he flinched. 

“No one” he replied steadily looking at her with his bright blue eyes. “Just an op we have on at the moment” he lied flippantly, it worked as Sarah eyed him once more but with humor on her face.

“Really Lucas?” she said “You really need to stop taking your work home with you.” She leaned in to kiss him, and as Lucas kissed her back his thoughts were scattered, her question had made him think of his repetitive dream of his ex interrogator, why suddenly after two years of recovery was he coming back to haunt him? But more importantly for Lucas, who prided himself with his photographic memory: what dreams couldn’t he remember? He looked over at him phone as it flashed up an alert from his boss of an early meeting. He groaned loudly showing the screen to Sarah who also expelled a noise close to the resentment he currently was showing for his boss. The moment the couple had shared was gone. Lucas climbed of bed having a feeling it was going to be a very long day.

#### Thames House

The pods whooshed open as Lucas stepped out, back straight casually asserting his authority. He did not like the fact that, despite proving his loyalty time and time again there were those that felt the need to talk about him and to snidely ask if he had seen any Russians. He smiled up at Harry, but one look at his ashen face caused him to drop his eyes to the ground. Yes…definitely a long day he thought to himself as he briskly walked the short distance to his desk glancing at Ros who was peering over at a computer monitor looking at some kind of CCTV. 

“From someone nice?” She asked; contempt dripping from every word despite barely looking up from the computer monitor she was still able to be the Ice Queen of the century. Lucas looked puzzled at his desk, picking up the small bouquet of flowers he glanced at the card, almost dropping it as he read the word ‘grebe’. 

“Not particularly” he replied slipping the card into his jacket pocket wondering exactly what he was going to do.

“Good” Ros replied shortly finally ripping her eyes away from the video she was replaying on her laptop. “Have a look at this” she started moving out of the way allowing Lucas access to the monitor. 

“Last night there was a riot at a immigration detention center in the Czech Republic” Harry stated, the worry in his voice emphasizing his Yorkshire roots, he like Lucas didn’t like displaying their northern heritage. “One detainee dead, and one escaped”. He was eyeing Lucas up in a way that caused the field officer to think there was something more to this, something that had caused Harry to take an eye on it. Lucas’s hand tightened around the card in his pocket. 

“That’s hardly a job for…” Lucas began but was cut off by Ros.

“This man was the one that escaped” she declared, pushing a few buttons on her keyboard, the software quickly zoomed in on a man of broad build, his face turned from the camera as he was running up the stairs. Lucas pushed himself to get closer to the monitor desperate to know his initially preconceptions were wrong. 

“He came into the country with a Hungarian passport and no Visa” Harry supplied, not looking at the screen but at Lucas, he knew why six had pushed the op on to them, and it wasn’t due to the evidence that the man was heading to the UK. 

“Now watch this” Ros stated slowing the video down and playing it in real time, Lucas felt his heart quicken as he saw the man stare up at the camera, he blinked a couple of times as he felt every fiber of his being come alive with fear and adrenaline. Even from through a screen Lucas had to reign in his wild emotions that wanted him to run, but away from the man or to him Lucas wasn’t sure. All three of them stared at the screen as the man repeated two words over and over, he knew he was being watched and he wanted to get a message across. 

“What’s he saying?” Harry asked, he had already watched the video and knew exactly what it was but he wanted Lucas to come out of himself, he watched the younger man carefully as he dry swallowed, his thoughts clearly somewhere that wasn’t the grid. Lucas leaned forward pressing repley on the small section of the tape, needing to see it again before he could believe it. “I think its someone’s name” Harry prompted, still studying his field agent carefully. Ros was watching the two of them not missing the exchange, she knew that Harry was more than aware of what was going on, what she didn’t understand was the level of intensity that was being shared between her line manager and her subordinate. 

“Who’s?” she prompted hoping that it would push the two of them into realizing she needed the information too. Her voice was neutral as she tried to calmly assess the level of destruction that this latest operation might have on the team. Lucas pushed himself further towards the screen as if trying to climb into it and into the detention center beyond it. 

“Mine” he simply stated moving back from the screen and fishing the small card from the flowers out of his pocket rubbing a hand over his face. Ros saw Harry nod and his face colour with the look of relief. 

“Who is he Lucas?” Harry asked, it was a casual prompt and Ros was suddenly aware that maybe this unknown man was from Lucas’s past…from Russia. Lucas in answer threw the card down in front of them, the neat handwriting clear to all that saw it. Ros frowned; it was obviously part of some kind of code.

“Grebe” Lucas stated, emotion coloured his voice, there was fear tinged with something else, regret maybe. 

“Lucas…”Ros stated clearly concerned, Lucas was a good field agent and rarely had she ever seen the younger man so agitated and emotional. Harry’s eyes were flicking between the two of them.

“Oleg Desharven” Lucas simply stated glowering at the computer screen his muscles tense as he tried to process the knowledge that his ex-interrogator was no longer in Russia, no longer in Russia and coming after him. Ros and Harry stared at him watching as he slowly pieced together bits of some unseen jigsaw puzzle. It seemed the atmosphere in the room was thickening but was quickly dispelled by a whoosh from the pods as Jo stepped in, pausing only to put her things under her desk she hurried over to the small gathering standing slightly behind Ros remaining silent. 

_The cell was dark but he could smell the breath of the man close to him, smell his precipitation, and hear his quickened breathing, quick because what he was doing was forbidden and quicker still because of him, the prisoner._  
“Sugar Horse” Desharven stated and Lucas let out an expelled breath causing the other man to flinch. Not brushing his teeth had that effect.   
“I don’t know” Lucas murmured and then he screamed, throwing his head back and screaming because that was what he could do, that was all he had been allowed to do… He stopped and he felt relief has the other man stroked his neck shushing his crying with whispers of comfort. 

Lucas blinked and moved away from the group, very much aware that they were watching him at his most vulnerable. He kept turned away from them counting breaths as he began to talk. “He was a Russian military officer, decorated for bravery in Afghanistan, his reward was to be tasked with being head interrogator of Lushanka prison 1998 to present day”. Jo processed the information faster than Ros.

“Tasked with interrogating you?” she asked as the group followed Lucas into the briefing room. As he crossed the threshold he was able to shake himself up, straighten his back and think a little more clearly…Ruth…why his mind flicked to her at this moment he didn’t know, but he felt the need to think about her and their nights more than ever. She helped him through Russia she would help him through his latest trauma. 

“What is he doing in the Czech Republic then?” Ros asked curious as to how well Lucas would know the man.

“He’s coming to find me,” Lucas said simply, his voice hiding the ranging emotional storm he was currently going through, taking in their confusion he decided to elaborate. “That’s what Grebe means, it’s a bird,” he sighed once more sitting down so that the big oval table can hide his shaking limbs that were the only thing that betrayed his fears. “Lushanka was surrounded by marshland” he paused trying desperately not to think of the moments he had seen his integrator in a different light. “He used to take me walking between sessions and I used to talk about England...” and Ruth… he added silently. “He used to joke that we would one day stand by the Tilbury water tower and bird watch together”. He finished looking around at the team, as they processed what they had heard, not from a threat to the country level but as a direct threat to the team. That was wrong Lucas thought, a fierce need to defend the man flashed through his already worn body. The man was not evil he was doing his job, he didn’t want Lucas dead he…Ruth…His eyes found an inconsistency in the paint on the wall and he glared at it consuming his mind with the picture of the wall to try and deter him from thinking about anything else…

#### Pollis- Cyprus 

Ruth looked up from the fish she was currently hacking at, she had never been much of a cook but since moving in with her soon to be husband she had been making more of an effort. Despite being a bad cook she was still the best in her little family. She looked up to see her stepson: Niko dive into the swimming pool of their villa. He was only 8 and was looking forward to the life ahead of him, as was Ruth. London at this point seemed further away than it did when she had first come to Cyprus. Counting to three she shielded herself as Niko, who had since climbed out of the pool jumped back in.

“Niko!” she exclaimed laughing as the little boy bobbed up from the water. She heard laughing behind her and turned to her fiancée. “We don’t have any wine” she states looking around the table keeping her eyes away from the hacked fish, it’s eyes accusing her of causing him some kind of insult despite it being dead. 

“Sure we do” he replied looking in the direction of the house. 

“No we don’t” Ruth affirmed, “We finished that bottle off yesterday”. She rolled her eyes at his forgetfulness. 

“Do you think it is ok to let Nico go?” he laughed as he glanced at the sun, it was close to late afternoon and very soon it would be dark. She laughed as her fiancée defended himself “After all what’s the point in children if they can’t do stuff for us” he smiled. Ruth rolled her eyes putting down the knife she holding and glaring at the fish.

“I’ll go” she called moving into the house to find more appropriate attire for the market. She glanced at the draw that held her passport, something about the draw drew her nearer and as she opened it she felt compelled to slip her British passport into her handbag. She closed her eyes her mind drifting back to her old life… John… The thought startled her that was a name she hadn’t even thought of in a long time. Why now? She shook herself and hurried out of the door quickly hailing the bus to the market place. 

She drifted around the market it was close to closing time and already the traders were getting desperate to call the last dibs on the few residents that were still milling around or, like her just arriving for a late shop of a few forgotten items. She turned a side street, a short cut to the nearest wine store that she had found within weeks of setting up home in the town. She glanced behind her out of habit, even after this many years it was difficult not to think that she had been found, that Harry had been compromised. That was when she saw a man looking intently at her, following her. She carried on walking taking deep calm breaths and forcing her body not to quicken up. She had no idea who he was but a quick glance had told her he had a similar complexion to someone who had lived in a cold environment, a harsh environment. Instinct told her he was not from the UK. She heard the footsteps get closer and she forced her body to only go to a brisk walk, trying to keep from running as she neared the next main street. 

“Stop!” the man called out in his own language… Russian, and Ruth let out a breath, she had been right this man was not MI-5, that didn’t calm her down but it did let her know that Harry was still secure. She stopped and turned around trying to adopt the nature of a scared rabbit. 

“What is it?” she replied, faking the haltingness of her Russian. Ruth did not falter on any of the languages she had learnt. 

“Ruth Evershed?” the man asked his expression wasn’t contempt but mere curiosity, as if he was contemplating her from a description he had heard. She cursed herself for turning around. She glanced back to the high street, but as she turned back to the man her breath caught in her throat: a gun. 

“Who are you?” she asked again in halting Russian nothing he was smiling at her, she felt her heart drop to the cobblestone floor below her. The man knew exactly who she was and knew she could speak Russian better than she was making out. 

“A friend of a friend” he stated, and her mind flashed back to Harry she almost wailed at the thought of him knowing this man. She just couldn’t picture it, her analytical mind that MI5 had so prized kicked into action and she knew she was missing a piece of the puzzle. 

“Harry…” she stated trying to draw a reaction, despite her raging emotions she was watching the man very intently. The man next to her laughed. 

“Lucas North” he stated and now it was Ruth’s turn to be confused, he had the wrong woman. She turned back to the now quiet main street her whole body tensing to make a run for it. The name had sounded familiar but it was too distant for the man to be telling the truth. This realization caused her to understand just a small fraction of the danger she was in. “Don’t run” the man commanded and as Ruth turned back to him she missed the three men dragging her down the alley. She switched to full out panic mode.

“Let go of me,” she screamed trying to catch someone with her flaying fists. The three men were too big for her but they paused the man to come up close to her, close enough for her to feel his breath on her face. She started feeling sick, her head swam as it drew her to a different time and place, the sweaty man to close to her reminding her too much of her step brother. She heard the man tut in disappointment. 

“Lucas will be very upset to hear you don’t know him” he stated in good English and that was all Ruth remembered as her vision gave way to darkness.

 


	3. The meeting

“I am not delivering you into an FSB trap” Harry’s accent cutting through Lucas’s concentration causing him to look up startled. He slowly gazes at Harry trying to process this latest bit of information. He wanted to meet Oleg, he didn’t know why but something was causing him to throw caution to the winds, the other half, his slightly more rational half agreed with Harry. He grappled internally trying to find a logical position to stand, he carefully started to reply, and his eyes flicking between Ros, Jo and Harry trying to assess what they were thinking. 

“If Oleg is coming to the UK without FSB approval…” He paused trying to give himself chance to think, Ros took the advantage.

“We don’t know that!” She cut in, Jo nodded in agreement behind her. Lucas smiled slightly; he had forced a response and knew that, even if this wasn’t the correct one his mind, it was working at fooling the team. He changed his direction of thought desperately getting his whole brain behind this, in his mind: random, reasoning. 

“But if he is” Lucas said again, pausing as he took in Harry’s narrowed eyes causing Lucas to duck his head slightly, he knew nothing would get past his old mentor and spymaster. 

“We do not know what he has been approved of” Harry says, Lucas looked at Ros, his eyes boring into hers before flicking to Jo, he had read her file and knew what she had been through with the Redbacks, she of all people would have some vague grasp of why he needs to meet him. Jo looks at Lucas and the older field officer could see the younger female grappling with her own emotions, Ros and Harry on the outside looking in had no idea of the level of emotions passing through the two colleagues. Finally Jo closed her eyes and counted to three while Lucas leaned back in his chair somewhat satisfied. 

“Harry” everyone looked at her and the younger spooks swallowed nervously hoping that her gut instinct was right, for whatever reason (and Jo could think of a few) Lucas wanted to meet Desharven, she knew what that felt like and how badly she had wanted to see her previous captor face to face. That was when she had been out of control, now… now she wanted nothing to do with the man. That was where her problem lay: give in to a clearly out of control former prisoner or not. “If Desharven is chief interrogator he would have interviewed Russian dissidents, al-Qaeda suspects…” she paused looking up to the curiously puzzled expression of her section chief and the thunderous anger of her section boss, she looked back down, Harry knew exactly what was happening and he wasn’t liking it one bit. She closed her eyes again trying not to flash back to when Adam had held her…not back to that house… _breath Jo_. “He would be our biggest catch in a twenty years”. She looked up again to find Ros nodding in clear approval of the reasoning. Harry was meanwhile staring at Lucas. 

“Go brush yourself up” he says finally, causing the younger man to look up, Harry sighed, everyone had been there at one stage, he just hoped that Lucas could keep a handle on his feelings. “You can meet him with back up”. Lucas meets his gaze grappling with the idea of a conversation with the man being recorded. 

“He won’t see me with back up” he mentions desperate to talk to the man alone. The team did need to know about the situation with the Russian, and Harry, Lucas thought savagely, would probably go through a heart attack. As Harry shook his head Lucas started to panic, his head swimming as he tried to keep a grasp on logical reasoning, he needed to be alone, he needed…Ruth…the name popped into his head like a calming balm soothing him and brining him pack into control. He knew what he needed to do because he knew Oleg as well as Oleg knew him. 

“I’ll wear a wire,” he declares before grapping his jacket and leaving the room. He takes a short walk to the toilet before breaking down on a cubicle floor. 

Ruth was cold, and that scared her. It was dark, too dark for just nighttime darkness where there would always be hints of light: stars, traffic lights, the reflection on the moon on the sea. She looked up to find a black material wall, she tried to move, but felt the unbearable sensation of something cutting into her skin. She looked down: cable ties around her wrists, pinning them to her back. Her whole world shook and she cried out in slight pain as it stilled again. It was noisy outside, cars? She peered around her quarters and noticed with growing dread that she was in a car boot. She closed her eyes… _Harry_ …she called out with her mind, but there was no answer, how could there be? She closed her eyes again preparing for the worse. Another jolt….a screech on breaks, she cried as she felt herself roll towards back seats, hitting them hard. She heard laughter. Russians… she cursed herself for not being better prepared, she had grown complacent: no longer did she only take main streets, no longer did she carry a gun, hidden in the folds of her dresses. How stupid she had been to think that the crazy world she had once been part of would leave her alone. Light…Bright light, too bright and those voices, she recognised one of them as her initial captor. 

“We have arrived Ruth, I suggest you remain quiet” Ruth stared at him uncomprehendingly trying to blink into the sun, how long had she been out? How far had they journeyed? The grey sky with dominated her eye sight seemed a million miles from the bright blue of Cyprus. Where had they taken her? 

“Where?” the words were on her lips as two men grasped at her pulling her from her cramp hiding place: the boot of a jaguar saloon Ruth noted as she turned around. Her attention turned back to the Russian and was shocked and a little scared to find herself nose to nose with him. She takes a shaky step back horrified that, with whatever length of the journey, her muscles had grown stiff and her joints were not working. She almost collapses to the floor. Oleg smirked at her, since meeting her he had been completely shocked and curious as to what his…. Lucas… had seen in her. She was attractive and clearly intelligent, but not the sort of girl he could have pictured Lucas with. Uncertainty crossed his mind maybe he had the wrong girl after all. 

“Come” he ordered and Ruth let out a wild call of struggle as his men dragged her into the empty council estate house. “Take her upstairs and keep her quiet,” he orders, he had someone he needed to see. 

The car was quiet, the two females in the front glancing in their rear view at the man in the back. It had been Harry who had found him, mumbling about a girl in the toilets. They both knew that Harry was angry at six, but now he was actually on British soil it was damn near impossible to palm the mission of to any other section. Besides Ros noted glancing at the shell of Lucas North, she would have had a near riot on her hands if Harry had even openly suggested it. 

“How do you want me to play it?” Lucas spoke, his voice sounded strange as he glared out of the window, he was angry at the way he had let his emotions control him but angrier still that it had been Harry who had found him. That it had been Harry who had comforted him as Lucas tried to pull himself back from the cell… from Oleg. It had been different, whatever it was that was plaguing him Lucas was sure it wasn’t a flash back, Ruth had never appeared in the cell. Ros was talking, Lucas tuned her out, he knew how he was going to play it but he just needed to make sure his section chief didn’t know he was in control. 

“Tell us about him?” Jo cut through Lucas’s thoughts and he looked back into the car vaguely curious. Jo seemed to quail under his glare from the back seat. Ros nodded in approval, time to see how much he is attached she thought an earlier conversation with Harry flashing through her mind. 

“What do you want to know?” Lucas replied a dangerous smile playing on his lips, Ros looked quickly in the rear mirror and back at the country lanes they were currently going through. “That he strapped me down and waterboarded me for 24 hours straight?” he watched Jo wilt under his words and Ros glare at him. He rolled his eyes all of that information was in his debrief and he knew that Ros and Jo had gone over that particular file with a fine tooth comb trying to find anything on Oleg. He also knew exactly what they would find: nothing. He had answered the questions he had been given and at the time they centered on his cell mate Kachimov, not on Oleg. The occupants lapsed back into silence and for some reason Lucas felt the strong urge to say…something about the older Russian. “He was obsessed with Britain, particularly its literature and language”. That simple statement caused them both to be confused, and he smiled leaning back. Neither of them had been in any long-term prison cells, and from experience Lucas knew the shorter they were the less likely they would know their torturer didn’t actually like torturing. His mind flicked over some of them he had had, none for the length of time of Oleg. They had enjoyed it because they hadn’t known him. They hadn’t understood that everyone that was at that prison was there because of their job and nothing more. To those, infrequent passer bys all he had been was a traitor. 

“We are here” Ros stated putting the hand break on, Lucas closed his eyes briefly then opened them; leaning forward he took in the familiar scene of the Tilbury docks, the way the grey sky blending with the grey concrete of the buildings and the grey water of the Thames. 

“I’ll go in alone” he spoke quietly leaving no room for argument as he unclipped himself and got out of the Volvo. Ros nodded cutting through any objection that her younger female officer might have had. 

“Fine, but Lucas, do NOT loose your wire” Ros orders pulling out a laptop and some headphones to be able to process all the information. Lucas nods absent-mindedly; he knew Oleg would already have some kind of plan for this. He turned and took a short walk away from the car surveying the landscape. He did not think about the way he had played as a child there, he did not think of his father, and he did not think of Oleg… _Ruth_ …He looked up into the blinding light of reflected sun off of a mirror. With a glance back at the car he moved towards it. 

As he neared the location he noticed a smaller concrete building he moved inside it and noticed a neatly folded boiler suit, blue of course, and a mobile phone. He moved fully inside smiling slightly, Oleg always had a backup plan. The phone rings and he picks it up. They pause for a moment, both men listening to the others breathing, that was what happened in the dark… after Lucas had finished screaming. All there had been was breathing. 

“Put on the boiler suit” The command is consistent with Lucas’s memories and he carefully and delicately puts the mobile phone exactly back in its place, he then begins to unclothe. Each garment removed is another layer of himself peeled off, another piece of his shattered broken life put back together. The boiler suit embodied the shell that Lucas had been in the prison, he was now a prisoner, and there was no going back from this meeting. Lucas was fully aware that the back up planning he had been predicting was not for the wire but more for Oleg, a last ditch of authority over his ex-prisoner. He carefully and neatly folded his clothes up and placed them where the boiler suit had once been. His ear’s pick up breathing, and he freezes, his eyes lowered waiting for the next command. 

“He’s ditched his wire!” Jo exclaims, one foot out of the door. Ros shakes her head. 

“We can still hear what’s going on” Ros said quietly tapping a few buttons on her keyboard, a Russian voice filled the car, Ros noted with surprise he was speaking English but was concerned at the way the Russian was treating her friend. She looks at Jo, who had since climbed back in and shut the door. To all ears it appeared that Lucas was still the prisoner. 

“Turn around” the voice commanded at Lucas. Ros saw Jo flinch and the traces of fear on her younger friends face. It was a hard life being a female but for a brief moment they were getting a glimpse into the hard lives of a male too. 

“Do not talk to me” Oleg called again and they heard a very faint whimper from a different voice: Lucas’s voice.

“Oh my God” Jo exclaims as they both stare at the concrete building where they knew Lucas was, listening to every word as it was said. 

“You do not talk to me without my permission” Oleg cut in, Lucas kept his eyes downcast, looking somewhere between his superior’s feet and his own. He felt rather than saw the look of approval on Oleg’s face. “Very well Mr. North” he says and indicates that the two could then proceed on some vaguely common ground. Lucas looks up, meeting the older man’s gaze but his posture: his hunched back, his ashen face, these don’t change. Lucas knew he was still very much on the back foot. 

“What do you want Oleg?” he says very carefully, he had considered speaking in Russian, however realized that such an underhand method of trying to cloud Ros and Jo was fruitless. They would just phone up a translator. When Oleg pauses Lucas presses forward. “We don’t have long before they come and find me” he states, his voice sounded off to him, deeper, gruffer. He desperately tries to reign in some stray thoughts. Oleg surveys him carefully smiling slightly. 

“A few weeks ago” he begins, pausing slightly, “there was a new arrival in Lushanka” he hears Lucas’s change of breath, he vaguely smiles, even the name still had an effect on his former captive. “He had been caught on the North-Chechnya border.” Lucas moves forward involuntarily as he pays even closer attention to what the Russian had to say. “He was training for a terror attack”.

“An attack where?” Lucas asked, annoyed at how feeble and weak his voice sounded, Oleg surveyed him and Lucas swallowed then licked his lips trying to get some moisture back into his mouth. 

“Here” Oleg replies back harshly. “In the UK” He shakes his head slightly. “After a little chat we discovered the details”. Lucas flinches his mind threatening to drag him back to a blackened room, the stale smell of urine and sweat filled is nostrils the sound of him screaming rung once again in his ears. Then the softer moments of a different mans quiet breathing of promises that it would stop. Lucas drags himself back into the present hoping that Oleg hadn’t seen his reaction. One look of the smile playing on the Russian’s features caused Lucas’s heart to sink. Nonetheless Oleg carries on pretending to be oblivious. “A major attack” he states and notices the shift from Lucas the fallen to Lucas the spook. “It is already in final stages of preparation, a team of five operatives all Sudanese born but having been brought up in Britain”. Oleg stops. He had given the other man enough information to be getting on with. Lucas stares at him trying to piece together what the other man had told him, he wanted to run his hands over his face but in the presence of Oleg and in a boiler suit his body did not respond to his demands. Oleg smiles, taunting him. Lucas looks at him aware that there might be more. 

“What?” he says wearily as the Russian crossed through the small room towards him, Lucas takes an involuntary step backwards, towards his clothes. Oleg pauses, noticing his slightly reluctance with disdain. 

“Ruth…I have her,” he says and watches Lucas go through emotions of fear, surprise, sadness and others that the Russian could not begin describe or mention. 

“What do you want?” he whispers desperate to try and find a different way out of this situation… _Ruth_ …

“A British passport, and 1 million dollars, all in mixed and used currencies” Oleg declares confirming Lucas’s earlier thoughts that his former captor was truly on the run from the FSB. Think Lucas think he calls out to himself. 

“And the attack…?” Lucas asks taking the subject away from those discussions, the ones that happen at the very dead of night you think that no one is really listening. 

“You will get the location and time” he declared, he paused an idea coming to him “or Ruth”. Without a backward glance he left leaving Lucas to his deepest, most innermost fears.


	4. Chapter 4

The sun beat down, warming her legs and face as she poured over a book, just a little way away she could hear her friends excited chatter with a group of lads…the group of lads from last night. She paused, her hand stroking the edge of the book as she pondered what had happened last night and whether it was the drink, odd food or sun that was making her feel on edge every time _that_ particular guy sat next to her. She sighed in frustration and turned back to her book trying to concentrate on the story in front of her, taunting her with a tale of love, danger and mystery. The very embodiment of John, the handsome man from last night. 

“Ruth” She looked up, lifting her head up slightly and looking over her toes to the direction of her name, her friend Rosetta, Ruth smiled slightly waving as her blonde friend walked towards her. Ruth’s eyes darted to the rest of the players of the Volleyball and noticed with a sense of dread that they were giving themselves a rest; cringing internally she noticed the group of males, now down to their swimming trunks, walking towards them. Her eyes briefly flicked through the group trying to remember there names: Max, Lucas, Steve and, of course John. As her girls got closer she attempted to rip her eyes away from John and is perfectly cultivated muscles. 

“Rosie!” Ruth exclaimed as she sat down, her friend returned her smile and fished around in the icebox pulling out a Coke. “Aren’t you going to go for another round?” Ruth asked hopefully, the playing worked well: it allowed Ruth to read, watch the guys and pretend to be totally nonchalant about a certain guy that was currently trying to stick to their group like glue. Rosie gave a wry smile knowing exactly what Ruth was asking for. The two girls were interrupted by a distinct and very recognisable voice. 

“The lads have gone to get something stronger” he noted, nodding in the direction of Ruth’s two other friends walking further down the beach with John’s two friends…what were their names? Steve and Max. 

“Would you like a swim?” A different voice asked, his strong accent appeared to practically melt the girl next to him and Ruth was shocked, she would be getting married in a week, and here she was swooning over some unknown male. Well…not entirely unknown, they did at least know his name. Rosie seemed to be following a similar thought process, as she seemed to snap out of it looking slightly crestfallen. Ruth, despite not wanting to be left alone with the man who was currently staring at her, equally disliked her friend looking sad. 

“Oh go on Rosie…enjoy your last moments free!” she exclaimed, slightly pushing the girl forward. The girl took one look at her, and then at John her eyes flicking towards them before she smiled and took off towards the water giving Lucas little chance but to follow. Ruth sighed and turned back to her book. 

“Did I offend you last night?” Ruth looked up, stifling a laugh at how her male companion looked serious, his blue eyes showing real concern that he may have messed up. Oh he was a puppy dog Ruth thought silently, but as she looked closer she saw what she had seen last night, he may be soft but there was also hardness there. She had seen that sort of depth with… she cut off her thoughts there and then. That male did not deserve to be with her under the sun even if it was in her thoughts. Be careful Ruth she thought savagely reining in her feelings. 

“No” Ruth answered trying to sound distracted as she perused her book once again. 

“Then why are you avoiding me?” God! Ruth thought he sounds like a five year old, she carefully glanced at him, hoping her sunglasses hid the direction her eyes were moving. He was gazing at her intently, as if trying to see and memorize everything. Ruth sighed and put her book down looking directly at him, feeling him stiffen under the examination. 

“I am here with my friends on a honey moon! I am not looking for anything other than a good time with my friends”. She went to move away but was caught under his gaze, now she had a feeling what those rabbits felt like in the middle of the road, except her headlights were bright blue. 

“Then maybe we should try and have a good time then?” John replied and now it was Ruth’s turn to be puzzled as she tried to work out this latest turn of events. Is he asking to be my friend? She thought, she looked out towards the sea, the same bright blue as her companion’s eyes. It took her all of two seconds to do decide on what she should say. Call his bluff Ruth she thought, and then at least she would have an excuse to ditch him and his whole group. She nodded and as she did she practically felt the air whoosh out of the younger males lungs. He lay town on the towel next to her looking at the sky. Stretch out, Ruth noticed his toned body looked flawless; there was not a mark on it. Book! Read! Now! She commanded herself. 

Ruth woke up, her eyes trained on the ceiling above her. It was not a high ceiling and looked vaguely familiar. Images for times spent at her gran’s 30’s house filled her mind as she continued to look at the polyester ceiling tiles. England she thought dispassionately. How she longed for that sun in her dream. She shivered slightly and as she did she processed the fact that she wasn’t tied up. What she had thought was bounding her up was a bed, a bed with quite a number of blankets on it, bundling her up against the cold. She smiled in spite of herself: definitely like my grans, the flash of happiness disappeared quickly and confusion replaced it. Whoever held her captive wanted her in good health, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, sometimes, considering her past experiences, it would be better off if her captor wanted her dead. That she could understand. That would mean she wasn’t a bartering chip. She felt and heard the whole house creak as a heavy-ish man stomped up the stairs. Images of how her step brother had once made a noise like that on a very similar set of stairs came flooding into her causing her to choke out a sob, leaning back into the pillow she closed her eyes. Her face flushed from her increased heart rate and it took all of her will power to stay on the bed and silent as a key turned in a lock. 

Lucas got back into the car, he could feel the eyes of his two female colleagues on him, hear their unanswered and unspoken questions on their lips. He sighed, his mind crammed with the memory of what just happened…he has found Ruth... somehow the happiness of his previous captor and… finding the girl from so long ago was is quickly dissipated by the next thought of her, that little mouse, alone with the equivalent of a lion. He leaned back against the seat, feeling the car start he closed his eyes trying to clear his head.

“Who is Ruth?” Ros said as they pulled out onto a country road, she was silent, staring ahead to give him chance to think. That was so rare in their line of work: time to think, that Ros made a point of allowing each and everyone of her friends to be allowed to work out what to answer. She glanced at Jo whose face was set in stone glaring out of the car window, Ros sighed, she had felt the chasm that was left by their Ruth at the very start of her career. She knew that any namesake in any investigation was going to pull up some bad memories, Jo had been close to her but from what Ros had seen and heard Harry had been closer still. It the mere mention of a name was affecting Jo she was curious to find out what Harry’s reaction would be. 

“No one” Lucas said finally, his eyes closed, his face appearing to be relaxed, however looking closer Ros could see a vein pulsing in the side of his neck, his hands were just that fraction too taut despite them resting on his knees. The man radiated tension. Ros didn’t believe him for a moment but wanted to wait until Harry was able to speak to the younger man. Jo surprised everyone by asking the next, most obvious but less than tactful question. 

“How does she measure up to details of a major terrorist operation?” Lucas looked at her, a range of emotions crossing his face as he desperately fought to keep his feelings in check, he knew that Ruth didn’t justify over 1000 deaths, but…conceal, don’t feel he kept chanting. He felt himself relax and the corner of his lips moved upwards by ½ a centimeter as he felt his face grow blank. He was now in control, and he could only answer questions when he was in control.   
“She doesn’t” he states simply before looking up at grey sky shivering slightly, his only betray of emotions however if it was from the cold, fear or anger Lucas wasn’t sure…although he reasoned it possibly wasn’t the cold because, after Russia it was impossible to be cold enough to shiver in the UK. He closed his eyes picturing only a sandy beach and a girl…Ruth…


	5. Flash backs

Ruth closed her eyes, screwing them tight as she pictured the maze of streets near her home. Sighing she imagined looking up and picturing the bright blue cloudless sky, hearing the hubbub of holidaymakers intermingling with the sounds of the locals. She opened her eyes, just a fraction but enough to see the peach pink wallpaper, peeling and bubbling from age and lack of care, instead of the blue sky above her there was the white ceiling tiles of a tired London house, and instead of the holidaymakers and Greek speech there was Russian dialect: boisterous from a combination of boredom and drinking. Instead of happiness she felt pain, first from the cable ties on the her wrists pinning her hands above her head and onto the metal bed rest and pain from inside; the sort she had been dealing with since her friends hen party those long years ago. Ruth’s eyes fluttered closed as she let her memories drift back to those times.   
The sounds of the house changed: boisterous laughter was quiet, the scrambling of the rats above her head were ominously quiet. Ruth’s eyes flicked open as she counted her breaths, counting to calm her down but also because she was very acutely aware that each one could be her last. She tensed as the heard the door turn and felt the man enter the room and she forced her breathing to slow down.

“Ruth” His small eyes seemed too close together and she almost snickered as some wild memory of her friends telling her about guys with small piggy eyes, however she reigned in her emotions as she saw the same amusement flicker across the mans face. “Ruth, I believe we might have a mutual acquaintance”. He spoke in his mother tongue, of that Ruth was certain however his mouth showed a slight thickness to the language, his words had a wide variety of accents from across Europe mixed into it. She had always been told that there were too things that made a man: what he said and how he said it. Now it was more how her captor was ranging over his Russian vowels like he was used to hearing his language distorted. Quickly she discounted he was any kind of tour operator that left one option: spook, maybe a prison guard of some kind. Suddenly her breathing sped up as her heart raced, trying to get a few more beats in before its time. All the while her captor surveyed her, curiosity conflicting with an emotion that, to Ruth, appeared to be close to jealousy. She carefully stored that thought for later…if there was a later. She swallowed summoning up the courage to speak.

“Harry?” She asked and was surprised and angry with herself at the squeak that came out, scared as she was for the man that she had considered her best friend, confidant and so much else. The man shook his head and she gasped and almost laughed with relief. This new emotion was quickly replaced with fear…was she the wrong person? If so then would she be discarded as no more than a body for Father Thames? She shivered. “Who then?” Ruth asked refused to speak in his language and acknowledge him as the one with the power over the conversation, not that it really changed the situation in anyway. 

“Lucas North” the man replied, his smile dropped knowing he wasn’t in total control of the conversation irritated him, especially after so long of being able to do something it. He had always spoken in Russian to his prisoners and they always spoke in Russian back to him. Always. Ruth closed her eyes, sensing the shift in the mans body language, mirroring so close to when…she crushed the thought and yet still flinched as if her step brother was there striking her. She opened her eyes to the look of triumph on her captors face: he knew her weakness. She glared at him, hoping to make up for her lack of courage mere moments before. “Its at these moments…” The man paused as if remembering words from some similar situation. “It’s at these moments that we really know ourselves, the captor will know the captive better than anyone” he smiled as Ruth felt the temperature drop in the room. 

“You don’t know me,” she hissed, almost faltering into Russian but stopping at the last minute. Fortunately, he didn’t notice. “I don’t even know a Lucas North”. She risked a look into his eyes, hard as the granite in her own kitchen, they were unfeeling and endless: like a black hole she thought ruefully. Her captor tipped his head to one side momentarily perplexed and puzzled. 

“Ruth Evershed” He began again, slower this time and with more of a pronunciation on the English Vowels, sounding momentarily like a foreign school child. 

“Your Lucas’s Ruth, but Lucas isn’t yours” he words took on a taunting quality as he slipped back into Russian as he seized control of the situation and gained an idea. He nodded to himself and Ruth quailed as she felt her fate being sealed, resting so precariously as it was in the hands of this unknown Russian. 

“I…don’t know…what you mean” she stammered, her heart had picked up its previous pace and Ruth was almost sure she would be able to see it hammering out of her chest. She breathed…counted to 10 and thought of Harry, Jo, Adam and the rest of section D. The Russian leaned in towards her, moving forward so he was directly above her head. Don’t flinch, don’t flinch, don’t… Ruth chanted to herself, as all she could see was the man’s face filling her vision: blotting out all else. 

“But I think you do Miss Evershed” he breathed on her, his breath smelling of cheap vodka and cigarettes. He smiled his face twisting and changing before Ruth’s eyes. “And you will enjoy it” his voice sounded wrong sounding more like…. Ruth screamed loudly and blacked out.

### The Grid

The team sat around the oval table appearing relaxed; only they knew each other’s tension. Only they knew that Lucas’s hands being clasped together was because he was angry, only they knew, that Ros: the ice queen was lost for words because she was scared and they all knew that Harry, gripping the back of his own chair was because he was sickeningly worried about all the others around the table. They shared their silence and their worries because they could share it with no one else. 

“A major terror attack” Harry repeated eyeing Lucas as he nodded slightly, thoughts racing as he kept his face blank. They might share their public worries with each other but Russia had taught Lucas to let them only believe he shared them. He smiled inwardly as the thought of the ease in which he could have played a double agent. 

“Who is Ruth?” Harry asked, causing Lucas now to look up, shock registering on his face. He hadn’t expected Harry to ask, or even for Harry to care when she would pale in comparison to information on the major terror attack Oleg had prophesied. 

“My guardian angel” Lucas answered cryptically, although everyone on the team could hear the truth in his voice, the pure innocent honesty that appeared the only emotion Lucas had shown since arriving back on the grid half and hour ago. 

“Was he telling the truth?” Ros asked suddenly, looking as though an idea was forming, “He could have been playing you”. The rest of the team looked at Ros as her words slowly sank in, changing the course of the meeting by a whole 1800: if a civilian wasn’t in danger then normal protocol could apply. Lucas closed his eyes briefly, thinking of the best way to answer, while his mind flashing back to a simpler albeit less happier time… 

_The smell of decay, of the forgotten soldiers, once Lucas would have flinched away from it, now it seemed familiar. Occasionally it was almost of a relief to smell it, to know that it was still there and he was still there and not broken or shattered like some of the prisoners he had heard about. His trousers scraped roughly against his skin, but that too was a welcome, scratching the itches left by the lice he had contracted three prison cycles earlier…weeks, Lucas quickly and harshly corrected himself, as he remembered his training about institutionalisation. Who had given him that talk? Tom? Harry? It scared Lucas to know he could barely remember what life had been like before the white washed walls and scummy showers where prisoners could contract more than legionnaires disease. He heard a scream, his whole body turned towards it; tensing as he recognised the sound of fellow a British service personnel. He had been there since the morning and had already got Lucas into trouble by trying to talk to him at the canteen. Hands grabbed Lucas and pulled him away._

_“Don’t” the voice of his own guard broke through his thoughts and fears for his counterpart in the cell. “Don’t you’ll make it worse for him…and yourself”. Oleg looked at him, his eyes watering slightly as he and Lucas both remembered the last time he had ‘made it worse for himself’. Both men flinched as they regarded each other. “Come” Oleg, commanded, barely glancing in the directions of the screams and dragging Lucas behind him. Outside the main building the smell lessened but did not go entirely. Even outside decay was occurring: sat within a marshy land the smell didn’t come from humans but rather animals that had wondered too far from their own designated paths. Outside there was no hope, in this regard it wasn’t too far from what it was like inside. Nevertheless Lucas prized himself with having a guard that trusted him enough to be let out on more private sessions, there was a beauty to Russia, especially in this inhospitable area, that England had been robbed from. “Tell me a story” Lucas looked at Oleg, surveying the man and smiling slightly, this was a routine._

_“Story?” he asked lightly, “Which one?”_

_“The one you heard from your grandfather, the one of Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborne” Lucas laughed lightly, before nodding._

“Lucas” another voice cut through his memory, one that didn’t belong in the marshlands of the Urals but more the grid. Opening his eyes he realized he had perhaps dawdled on the question for a fraction of a second longer that was unnoticeable. Quickly he played over his answer. 

“He wouldn’t…not about this” Lucas said, opening he didn’t sound like one of those pathetic adults on Jeremy Kyle, the type that denied their partner had been abusive despite all evidence against them. “Oleg…he” paused Lucas, breath Lucas, _count to 10 Lucas_ he ordered himself. “Oleg was an outsider within his own rank in Lushanka, he…he found solace only in the truth” he paused again. “Lies were…severely…punished”. He swallowed has his mind dragged him down again. 

_Pain. Pain from outside his body, there was no control over that pain; there was also the pain of the infected bites caused by lice, which too was outside pain. There was internal pain too: from his nights with Oleg that was called good pain, and the hunger pains. That was self-inflicted. Self-inflicted not because Lucas wanted to starve: the intensive program of questioning and manual labor meant that no one survived very long on a hunger strike. It was self-inflicted because Oleg had told him the food was off, contaminated with rat dung and damp. Lucas needed his health and Oleg never lied. Not like he had when he had tried to escape, the one time he had abused his walks on the marshes. That was where the bites had become infected…Lucas paused, internally he could think around the pain but on the outside he was screaming for a pause, for God, for Harry, for anyone that could stop it. Sometimes he even screamed for the one that was causing the pain. Quickly he reclassified the sting of his infected wounds to self-inflicted pain._

_“You know how much I hate lies Lucas” Oleg’s voice hummed in the background as the pain sensed, it was like cracking open a cage of an animal and Lucas lunged forward towards the guard, his guard as he broke down in tears. There was only one person he wouldn’t scream out for no matter how hard it was: Ruth, to scream for her would mean that he had broken, to scream for her was worse than any self inflicted pain. She was the one he could hold in his head and just see and she was the only one, apart from Oleg that could help fix and mend him._

Lucas opened his eyes to the team peering worriedly at him; he looked at them with relief before remembering to keep his emotions in check. Carefully he took whatever might have crossed his face and released them back into his memory…where they belonged Lucas thought brusquely. He became aware that he was also dripping in sweat. 

“I need to go to the bathroom” he muttered and was pleased to hear that his voice had escaped from his ravaging emotions, appearing even and measured. To the team it sounded cold, this was the Lucas that had first been brought to them, Jo turned around and looked at Lucas evenly. The two measured up to each other, respect dancing on their features. They were survivors of two different events, to Jo that showed Lucas to be almost a brother to her, but to Lucas it showed her up to be a liability. To respect each other meant to not tell Harry about the other, but how would that really hold up with such a younger spook. Lucas nodded once at her and left, seeking solace in the tiled walls of the bathroom once more. 

He left behind him Ros who gazed at him coldly, pondering on what she had seen and heard, a worried looking Harry and a sympathetic Jo, gazing at him with sadness.


	6. Memories

The usual hubbub of the grid dimmed down as Lucas reentered after what he had hoped was a usual amount of time to spend in the bathroom. He steeled himself as every colleague turned to look at him, he flinched as he saw that even Harry was peering at him from behind the glass wall of his office. He kept his face neutral, cold, while inside he was almost wilting, he didn’t even attempt to chastise himself for it: he was a spook and his job was to live in the shadows either literally or through building up layers of alias or fake backstories. Being openly stared at had the same effect on a spy as lettuce being left out in the sun. Quickly he met Harry’s gaze, his eyes coldly surveying the older man; challenging him to comment on his sign of weakness but also to show him pity. 

“Lucas” Lucas turned at the sound of his voice to find Ros looking at him. He inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the presence, and the right of his direct superior to talk. Inside he scathingly realized that it would be the other way round had Tom not chosen him for the assignment, as soon as the thought was there it was gone, dispelled by the realization that, if Tom had chosen Zoe or another part of the team then he would have been crushingly disappointed. 

“Yes” he replied coolly, his voice carefully devoid of any emotion to the point it sounded almost dead.

“I need you to see Tariq so we can identify Ruth, codename: darling” Lucas flinched slightly at the mention of the codename, smiling slightly as he recalled her utter hatred for that particular name. It had been what her stepbrother had called her. “You don’t approve of the codename?” Ros said sharply studying her subordinate’s reaction. 

“Just a bit presumptuous” Lucas said carefully, quickly picking through how best to answer the question. Russia had taught him to think several minutes ahead of the conversation; now that the torturing had been removed Oleg’s teachings suddenly became infinitely easier. “She might have been a close friend”.

Ros snorted before rolling her eyes. “We need to establish that _darling_ is definitely in danger”. 

“She’s not in danger” Lucas replied sharply, too fast and too honest, Lucas internally cringed at the way he had defended Desharvin. 

“Held captive then” Ros retorted, deeply unnerved by the way the conversation was going, mentally she made a note to discuss Stockholm syndrome with Harry, or Lucas directly. “Just…go to Tariq, names, address anything you know.” He nodded, secretly he was elated by the idea that the mystery of who Ruth was, but more importantly what was happening now to her would be solved. 

“Fine” Lucas replied curtly, turning on his heel he bounded towards the tech room only to be stopped short by the sight of Harry and Malcolm talking closely together. Carefully he hovered at the entrance, unsure if he was to go in or make his presence known or leave entirely. 

“Lucas” Malcolm was the first to acknowledge his presence; the three men regarded each other, the tension of the room drawing out like a piece of yarn. “What can I do for you?”

“Darling” he stated, he didn’t miss Harry’s reaction to the code name and stared at his boss with guarded curiosity. “Ros chose it,” he half explained and half defended himself, however it also proved to show to Harry that he hadn’t missed the small trace of emotion, a rarity for spies in general let alone his boss. Realizing both men were still looking at him and he hadn’t really fully explained what he was doing in the room. “Ros wants a trace so we can determine if Darling is being held captive”. He carefully avoided putting stress on the ‘captive’ part of his statement. 

“Right then” Malcolm replied scooting his chair over to another computer and firing up a database. “Come sit down lets see what we can do”. Lucas quickly all but jumped into the chair. 

“Thanks Malcolm” Harry stated, shocking Lucas with the warmth in his voice, so unlike the cold persona he usually took during an opp, which was supposedly this, important. The tech didn’t comment but merely nodded in reply, already distracted by the puzzle and investigative work Lucas had supplied. 

“Right Lucas, lets start simply what do you know about her?” Lucas paused closing his eyes, drawing himself back into his past. 

“Her name is Ruth…she didn’t give a surname, or even if she did I wouldn’t have remembered it…” he paused “We were in a club, Malaga, I had just finished my A-levels’. Malcolm was gazing at him with politeness, letting him tell his story but Lucas realized it wasn’t really much help to either Ruth or the mission.

“Erm…we swapped phone numbers, but this was years ago…” he paused thinking over how much had changed. Briefly he wondered if it was really a good idea to let Ruth back into his life. 

“Number” Malcolm prompted; Lucas quickly plugged his phone in. 

“I never thought to delete the number…” he trailed off thinking briefly, as he had for years, if that was a slightly tendency for obsessive behavior. 

“Lets just hope that it’s still registered” Malcolm replied, frowning slightly as the screen drew a negative. Meanwhile Lucas pondered a better way to hunt down the correct Ruth, leaving Malcolm to his work he wheeled over to an empty computer bank. Malcolm frowned slightly as he fired up his former friends workstation but quickly returned to his work. 

“She was a victim of abuse,” Lucas rapidly explained while clicking through the relative police files. He felt rather than saw Malcolm pull his chair over to see what he was doing. “Her step brother…” Lucas trailed off, not wishing to betray something that was seen by his friend as shameful, to be kept secret rather than shouted out that she was a survivor. Finally he pulled up a witness statement, proclaiming the name of the person to be Ruth Evershed. Malcolm frowned at the screen as Lucas pulled up a picture of an older version of Ruth than he had met.

“Ruthie” Lucas breathed, reaching out a stroking the screen tentatively, he didn’t notice Malcolm leave with a mutter of getting the team. Lucas remained fixed on the mug shot in front of him. 

Ruth moaned slightly in answer to the vice like headache she was currently experiencing, the second thing she noticed was that the bed was wet, water pooling at her sides. She straightened up, craning her neck upwards she gasped as her shoulders, still wrenched above her head, creaked in protest. She made a mental note that she might be slightly old for this, before reminding herself that she was actually younger than Harry. 

“Feeling better?” her captor asked sarcastically in English, the empty bucket proffered for Ruth’s inspection. “I knew you had a past but…” he trailed off tutting slightly in anger. 

“How did you know?” she asked groggily, but even in her dazed state she was able to feel the incredible pain, deep down in her cervix as her womb contracted horribly. Still able to feel the blush creeping onto her cheeks as if discussing some impossible taboo. 

“My sister…” he trailed off, closing his eyes in pain, then reopening them in anger. “She was rounded up and…” he trailed off again. “I got the news at my post with orders to remain there, Lucas helped me through the ordeal”. Ruth stared at him, feeling a strange affinity to the unknown man, whoever he was she knew he had had a tough life. That made her almost laugh. Everyone in the security services did, whatever their nationality, the lost warriors: desperately protecting her country before being chewed up and spat out the other side. No family or friends allowed. Nothing can detract from the job in hand. 

“You care…deeply for Lucas” she paused, confused as to what to say next. 

“Lucas is everything” Oleg replied brusquely, the way he said it made Ruth think there was something more to it than old friends. 

“I really don’t know who he is…” Ruth trailed off desperately, if only she could show her attacker she was the wrong person, he seemed like a reasonable man. Well, Ruth corrected her self, reasonable for someone that was able to torture on order. Oleg snapped out of his memories and glowered down on her. 

“That story is getting tiring,” he noted, he considered briefly pushing her down in her place before he remembered his promise to Lucas. “Look!” he suddenly barked causing Ruth to flinch; the brief moment of sympathy due to his sister was instantly dispelled. She saw him draw towards him and she drew back towards the headrest, bringing her knees up to try and shield her face. Oleg drew back, now he understood the reaction he was horrified to be the one that caused it. Horrified because of his sister and her last moments. As he took a step back he flicked some photographs at her, some laying face up for her to see others facedown, a mess of memories, some his some the captives but all of the same person. Ruth looked at the one that lay on her stomach and gasped. There she was, a young adult, she wasn’t smiling at the camera, she wasn’t even looking at it. She broke into a smile as she remembered the circumstances. 

_“Do you want to get some ice cream then?” John’s awkward voice whispered in her ear. Ruth looked around lazily, sitting up slightly she began drawing random patterns on his broad chest, feeling the ridges of his hard muscles under her hands._

_“Ice cream?!” she said incredulously, briefly pondering the contrast between her lover and her last…her step brother. John felt her hand still and tensed slightly._

_“Please don’t think about…” John murmured, taken her face and kissing it tenderly, drawing her away from her negative thoughts. Taken his hand in his face he pulled her away slightly, smiling._

_“Ice cream?” he asked again innocently._

_“Like kids?” she whispered as if it was something scandalous, John frowned slightly before nodding._

_“I’m not old and mature yet” he laughed, sweeping his hair back in a single motion, his hair sat there for a moment before flopping back to the same place again. Ruth giggled._

_“Yeah sure, I’m up for that” John grinned as he heard an agreement before dashing to get ready. They had both all but abandoned their respective groups in order to ensure time together. They didn’t verbally say how long they had left with each other; it was blissful to just enjoy the moment, swept along by the roller coaster of love. They only had eyes for each other, as they weaved amongst the families and partygoers of the resort they only parted hands once. Ice cream successfully brought they had sat by the sea, arguing and teasing each other about more or less everything._

_“That’s a keeper” Lucas’s voice broke through the happy couples thoughts and voices as he brandished the camera around. Ruth blushed deeply at the thought of being caught out by him and her friends who were gaping at her like they had never seen her before. She could hardly blame them, bookish and with an annoying knack for being right, she had managed to land a group at work purely out of coincidence of living in the same flat and having a job with hours that were difficult to relate to with anyone else. Not the typical type to go out with any guy, and that was just as a result of her personality, not excluding the emotional trauma of being in the same room as any overtly cocky or confident lad. Yet here she was, irrevocably in love for perhaps the first time in her life._

_“Lucas” John said, laughing, glancing at Ruth to gauge her reaction before either hugging or laying into her friend.  
“Well…make sure I get a copy” Ruth replied weakly, causing her friends to laugh. “Come on Ruth!” exclaimed one of the girls, the one that had dragged her out on the holiday in the first place. “Lets leave the boys to the ice cream and go get something to eat”. _

_“That’s not Lucas” Ruth said as she opened her eyes looking directly at Oleg, uncertainty filtered through her voice and for the first time in her life she was scared, terrified that she would never see another sunrise. Quickly she reassessed her captor and decided that he was not reasonable but instead either bearing a grudge or mad. She pulled at her restraints slightly. Oleg frowned before quickly sifting through the photographs until he pulled out a mug shot of the same person._

_“This is Lucas North,” he said brandishing it in front of her face. Ruth gasped as she took in the bloodied nose and the dark purple bruising inking his face. It was undeniably her John and it puzzled Ruth as to how he ended up in that state._

_“That’s John, John Bateman” Ruth replied carefully, unable to take her eyes off of his face, so unlike the carefree look he would have given her. Instead John was scowling at the camera; it was almost a challenging glare of a predator sizing up a competitor male. “How?” she asked timidly wondering if the Russian would or could give her the answers that she had been hoping for since she had first been pulled from the streets of Polis. Internally she moaned out with grief as she flashed her thoughts back to Cyprus and Nico and George and how they had built a life together._

_“He was sent on a mission into Russian territory” Oleg supplied; this caused Ruth to frown further. “He is MI5 Section D” Oleg smiled with triumph as a barrage of emotions ran through Ruth at top speed, each one too strong or too fast to even attempt to hide. Quickly she started to piece the information together, talks just after she got there between Tom and Harry and how they had lost contact with an agent. She had been attempting to be a double agent then for GCHQ, she must have missed him by just a few months._

_“You were his torturer” Ruth spat out, angry with herself just as much as Oleg, while she had been swanning around Harry while her first love was rotting away in prison with no visible, at least to her and she knew most of all black opps or projects that went on, to get him out. It made her physically sick._

_“Lies had to be punished” Oleg stated factually. “Truth was…well rewarded” despite his softened voice there was something about his accent that made the idea of a reward from this man sound almost worse than a punishment. “I shall find out if your lying Ruth” Oleg suddenly said, smiling as he regarded the way sweat began pooling on her head and her armpits. “I shall find out who this John Bateman is,” he laughed before quietly leaving. Ruth groaned as her headache increased, regarding the photos around her, many bearing her John with signs of torture or brutal treatment. Others showed him with a group of other prisoners, they appeared were straight to attention: staring out at the camera like she had seen from labor camps that dogged her modern history studies. In direct contrast there were pictures of him, presumably before Russia, the carefree, smiling young man with an arms linked with Zoe and Tom. The original team Ruth thought. Other pictures documented her time with him, showing that he had indeed never forgotten her as he had promised not to do. The barrage of emotions wanted to make Ruth scream. Instead she slunk into unconsciousness with silent tears dripping down her face._


	7. Realisation

“I have to go somewhere for a few days” Lucas announced to Sarah, slowly studying her reaction. It had been a date, was still supposed to be a date, however after the long hours at work, Lucas felt dinner was turning more into a liaising meeting. Instead of studying the blonde’s reaction for disappointment or apprehension he was trying to work out exactly how much she- and by extension the CIA- knew about the renegade Russian, and undead British Service personnel that was on their soil. 

“Oh but Lucas…” Sarah paused looking at him. “That’s a waste of shell fish.” Lucas snorted slightly turning back to his battered fish as the smile quickly dropping off of his face. The date turned cousin catch-up was being fairly productive, but at the same time terrifyingly disturbing. “However I am the same,” Sarah continued carefully causing Lucas to look up sharply. 

“Huh?” he mumbled around a large mouthful. 

“I’m off British soil for a while” Sarah repeated, slightly averting her eyes as if the way Lucas was eating disgusted her, he ignored her- after years of being denied greasy fry ups and British food every mouthful was still full of deliciousness. Quickly he swallowed, silently berating himself for the brief disregard for the food. 

“Why?” he asked with trepidation, he lowered his voice dangerously. “What’s going on?” he challenged, last time the Americans had played up was after Lucas was in Russia but he remembered Harry describing the loss of Tom with a particular vividness. 

“Oh nothing” Sarah instantly dismissed, waving her hands to exaggerate how much ‘nothing’ was. 

“Sarah” Lucas cut in; all warmth was gone from his voice as he coldly glared at his counterpart. Sarah froze slightly, she had heard from her boss about Lucas’s temper and his service record showed he had a tendency to violence. She saw her partner narrow his eyes slightly as he saw how she observed the exit route, stationed directly behind him. The two spooks stared at each other, momentarily forgetting their relationship with each other over their loyalty to different services. 

“Dakar” Sarah said finally. “They are posting me to Dakar” The two return to companionable silence as they study their meal. 

“Why?” Lucas asks, smiling in spite of himself at the transparency of the question. 

“Now Lucas, you know I can’t tell you that” she smiles, grabbing her plate she turns to bin, spooning the rest into the bin. Lucas flinches as she turns and smiles at him. 

“Lucas, its not like you can’t just get some more you know” she tries to keep the scorn and patronizing tones down, however she as well as Lucas knows she fails. 

“I just…know what its like to…be hungry” he winces at how pathetic he sounds. 

“Oh Lucas” she simpers; she dumps the clean plate into the sink and extravagantly tries to search for the washing up liquid.   
“Under the sink” Lucas states grumpily. Sarah nods gratefully, washing up her plate with vigor.

Harry sat down heavily, ignoring how the old plush chair groaned under his bulk. Reaching across to the small table he quickly poured himself a measure of whiskey, trying desperately to calm his raging thoughts. A small squeak drew his attention away from his thoughts and back to the room, looking down he saw the kitten paw his leg. 

“Its ok Moggie” he smiled sadly, remembering how Ruth’s old cat had passed away from pining. At first he had been angry at the cat, the mange bag he remembered calling it as he dumped it in the trashcan, how was a cat allowed to give up when Harry couldn’t, he wasn’t allowed to there was too much at steak. Eventually replaced by a sense of failure he had gone out and found a rescue cat of a similar colour. He had remembered thinking that maybe Ruth wouldn’t notice, but as the weeks clocked to years his thoughts just hoped that wherever she was she approved of him keeping a cat for company for fidget his Yorkshire terrier. Picking the kitten up, his thoughts turned back to the original Moggie with a fondness he hadn’t felt before. Placing the whiskey upon his knee he stroked the kitten, allowing its loud purrs to fill the room. He glanced at the mirror above the mantle piece, and seeing his reflection thought bizarrely of the James Bond villain: whiskey and a cat…. he shook himself and began to rhythmically stroke the kitten, allowing the animal to quickly fall asleep on his lap, chucking as it stuck its pink tongue out. Briefly he replayed his memories of how he found out it was Ruth, his Ruth, that Oleg was holding….

_“Thats her?” Malcolm asked Lucas gently, both unaware of Harry’s presence. Lucas nods, a range of emotions flicking across his normally blank face: fear, happiness, and a host of others that Harry couldn’t identify. Not because he didn’t know the emotions Lucas was currently feeling, he had probably experienced them himself at some stage in his career. Instead it was simply that he didn’t know Lucas. Before Russia he hadn’t needed to know his emotions, and Lucas had made it clear he was there to do his job, which he had done well, and after Russia he had always been more open to Malcolm gentle and tech talk- always appearing closed off to Harry and the rest of the team unless totally necessary._

_“Ruth Evershed” Lucas whispers, there sound of the name draws all the right emotions straight to the fore front of Harry’s mind. His heart appeared to thump louder and faster than before, trying to break free of the constraints his head placed on it, trying to reach the computer where he knew her photo was, the words ‘deceased’ stamped across the file. His legs felt wobbly and he could feel the adrenaline his heart was pumping straight through his body. He wants to say something to Lucas, anything to try and comfort the younger man, to let him know that Oleg wasn’t there for his ex prisoner for Harry. That it must be another game from another spymaster- Arkady’s last joke echoing from beyond the grave. Yet he couldn’t, partly because Harry’s own logic prevented the idea from being credible, but partly because all he can do is watch Lucas as he finds out this Ruth can’t be his Ruth because Ruth Evershed was deceased._

_“She’s MI-5” he hears Lucas whisper, almost wondering. Harry frowned slightly, it hadn’t been the reaction he was expecting, and fear causes his breath to hitch in his throat twice over. Firstly because Lucas may know of the plot to fake Ruth’s death- and if he did then who else did? was it really possible the Russians could infiltrate the very Grid which they were standing in. The second idea of why Lucas didn’t believe Lucas was dead was because he trusted Oleg even in the face of blatant evidence from his own organisation. Harry wasn’t sure which one was more alarming._

“Stockholm syndrome” Harry thought savagely, thrusting himself out of him memories back to his now sleeping cat and warm whiskey. He groaned, removing his hand from the cat he rubbed his face, signing. It had to be Stockholm Syndrome, at work he had not made the connection, he had struggled with the idea that his senior case officer could possibly be not thinking logically. But now, confined to his own thoughts, where his head was firmly in charge of his heart he could clearly see that earlier he had been in denial, he hadn’t wanted this option to arise. He had wanted Lucas to have proved his loyalties already in the countless deeds he had done since coming back from Russia. Somewhere in the back of his mind he could understand that he would rather Ruth was actually captured, as it would completely dispel the idea that Lucas was in his torturers grasp. He stopped his thoughts suddenly, forcing his head to think about the wasted warm whiskey in his hand, quickly he gulped it down, not even noticing the flavour. Quickly, to keep himself distracted he placed the tumbler down and quickly poured another measure. Taking a more refined sip he closed his eyes, savouring the flavour and the warm burn as it scorched its way down his throat….

_“Was” Harry found his voice at last, Malcolm looked up instantly- guilt laden on his face. Harry felt a small amount of bitter satisfaction at his officer’s reaction. Lucas snapped round, eyeing Harry up with the same resentment he had shown Harry when he had first come back from Russia. The elder spymaster met the look with a mixture of paternal love and indifference. “She died” Harry repeated shortly, a savage part of him hoping to have hurt the younger man with this news._

_“So it says” Lucas answered coldly , not taking his eyes off the screen to even regard the man twice his senior._

_“No Lucas” Harry barked, surprising himself with is own ferocity and desperation. Finally Lucas tore his eyes from the computer screen, looking at Harry with a look he recognised all too well, it was the look he gave Ruth at the dockside. He felt the air whoosh out of his lungs as he regarded Lucas, caught half way between looking after his wellbeing and driving home the realisation that Ruth was, in essence, dead. “We dragged her body out of the Thames” Harry carried on harshly, briefly closing his own eyes as he was caught up in his own flashbacks. He briefly looked at Malcolm, and was surprised by the look of disproval on the tech officer’s face. Harry shook himself, reasoning with himself that he was not doing this for himself but for Ruth, whose secret may not be broken. He stopped as again Lucas shook his head, standing up he moves towards the door. The darkness plastered over the younger case officer caused Harry to take an involuntary step backwards, suddenly unsure of his footing._

_“She is not dead” The case officer spits, his eyes solidifying into ice._

_“Oleg could be…” Harry started in a last desperate attempt to reinstate his authority on the situation. He stopped as he started at the younger man who was staring seemingly at nothing, working his jaw backwards and forwards as if working of his frustration, or a spy about to go into a melt down. Harry waited patiently to figure out which option Lucas was going to choose for himself. He watched as Lucas opened up his mouth surprising himself when no words came out. He clacked his mouth shut, throwing a desperate look at Harry who flinched. It was the look of a man drowning in his own desperation._

_“Я не мог жить по истине теперь я знаю” Lucas finally spoke, his tongue shaping the Russian like it was his birth language. Harry flinched again, all the old trepidations of Lucas rejoining the service resurfacing and exploding into millions of doubting facets. How far did the Institutionalisation really go?_

_“Lucas, English please” Everyone turned around to see Ros standing, cool, calm and collected as she cast a critical eye over the chaos around her, she was detached and her voice posed no emotion and therefore no argument._

_“заткнуться Мне нужно подумать” Lucas barked at her, ignoring Harry as he stood, staring flabbergasted at his soon-to-be-former case officer. As the silence drew out with Ros and Lucas sizing each other up and glaring like two wolves from rival packs it was Malcolm that came to the rescue._

_“Lucas” he barked suddenly, before adding a quick stream of Russian, a skill harking back to the cold war, however the harshness of his voice caused the small group to stand shell shocked. Even Lucas was drawn out from his anger- seemingly superficial in comparison to the deep emotion resonating from the normally reserved Malcolm. Harry could never remember a time when his friend had even raised his voice, and Lucas had to be of the same frame of mind as he stopped shaking, stood up albeit a little straighter and more taut than what was normal… for Lucas at least. He looked intent at his friend, moving his head a little to the side in an almost innocent and child like fashion that might have made Harry snigger in different circumstances. Replying in Russian too fast for Harry’s rusty, and he had knew found respect for his technical officer who was keeping up with Lucas’s Russian- as fluent as any Russian agent._

_“Take this and go home” Malcolm commanded finally in English, proffering a USB stick and holding it at arms length, shaking it slightly as though tempting a dog when Lucas first refused to immediately take Malcolm’s exit route. Everyone sighed a collective relief when the stick was snatched from the older man’s stiff grip and the woos of the pod doors that signified an end to the episode. The room stared at Malcolm in transfixed astonishment , but he turned away, not interested in receiving praise or even negativity in his handling of the situation. Only Harry saw how his closest ally hesitated while resting his hands on the keyboard, failing to feel the familiarity with the machine that Harry knew he normally felt._

Somewhere across the street a woman called her children out of turn loudly, and Harry jolted awake, causing Moggie to make up- speaking indignantly while trying at the same time to snuggle back into Harry’s trouser leg, pricking his leg slightly fly with her sharp claws. Harry smiled slightly , scooping the feline up he cradled her close, thinking about Ruth and trying to dispel any thoughts of all of ill towards his case officer, out of both jealousy (if the story Lucas was saying was proved true) or foreboding (if his story was proved false). Ignoring the still screaming woman he plodded up to bed. It was the whiskey that helped him sleep that night. 

Across London, in a dark flat in Lambeth was an empty bed. Impeccably made, as if loved by its owner, yet not occupied. The owner preferring to lie on the floor next to it, forsaking the mattress for familiar comfort of the hardness of wood pressing into his back, and the cold tendrils worming their way up through his night clothes and along his spine. Lucas wasn’t cold, 8 years in Russia had shown him what cold meant, to have cold gripping his bones like an iron fist and refusing to let go. Russia had also taught him- or was it Oleg for it was difficult to distinguish between the two- that warmth didn’t always bring comfort and safety. 

A train went past, rattling the window panes and cuasin this body to feel the tremors transmitted by the floor. He shook himself, now in the dark he was able to think and he was cursing himself. He had slipped, a physiologist might even use the term relapsed, but Lucas refused to consider himself an addict to that sort of life- a life where everything was controlled form the language spoken to who socialised with who and when. Instead he acknowledge the ease of such as a system, but at the same time merged the life with other thoughts of the side dishes: the torture, the smell, the danger of showers. All melded into a picture of mottled greys and blacks. Lucas groaned, tossing his pillow- the only small comfort he had allowed himself- away. Resting his head back so his neck creaked in protest and his head rested on the hard wooden floor he focused on the picture of greys and blacks in his mind, slowly building up his life as imagined on fates loom, slowing working a pattern into the picture: Ruth. Sighing he gave up on the exercise and turned his mind back to the previous conundrum his freedom gave him. 

Now there was a new layer of complexity to this life, ironically in the form of the same thought- and subsequently person that had kept him going in prison: Ruth. The idea that she was, or had been, romantically involved with his boss was something he couldn’t really visualise. If he looked at it from the way he had known Ruth he couldn’t see the two personalities working wither. But then he had to remember that his time with Ruth was 20 years ago. Ruth would have changed, he know he had, and the more he thought about it the more he understood that it potentially boiled down to two things: John and how he viewed Harry. He groaned again and rolled over, hoping to seek solace in the pain and cold of the floor while ignoring the little voice in his head calling him a saddist, and a coward. Harry had been the one that imprisoned him, he should hate him but he was too much like the father he had wanted so badly. The same desire that had led him to get attached to Vaughn. He stopped his thoughts dead, not daring to move a muscle, listening to his pounding heart until he felt his thoughts had silenced enough for him to continue. 

“I am not John” he forced himself to speak into the darkness, knowing that Harry had long ago stopped bugging his house and that once again he was his own agent. In a manner of speaking. “I am not” he repeated, enforcing and solidifying his promise. Ruth was a reminder of his past, not required and Lucas was in-between whether the unexpected arrival was to be welcome or not. What he and Ruth had together was brief- and went again every aspect of his upbringing, in contrast it had been the best, and deepest relationship he had ever had. In those moments he had been free, from his father, from the village’s disapproval, from education… but also there was a sense of- dare he even admit it: home. Yet after the holiday nothing happened, not that he went out of his way to allow anything to happen, quite the contrary if he really focussed on his actions. Instead he had hung around for long enough to hate his parents again before heading straight off abroad, closely followed by his best friend. 

Gritting his teeth to prevent himself from screaming, and slowly begging anyone could be up there to listen for sleep he felt his thoughts begin to jumble. He wanted sleep yet feared it, behind his eyes he knew his demons were waiting for him, waiting to haunt him without mercy. Yet to know they were there, he knew was a reassurance that he was still him, still the man that had travelled so far in an attempt to repent for his actions and right the wrongs of the world. He had always disagreed with his father on his views of God- that it was fear of him that allowed man to do good- he himself would have said that it was recognition of your own demons and a need to quell them that allowed for the ultimate prize: repent of all sins. 

His last thought was of Ruth before he was thrust back to Russia, and… Oleg. 

It was dark, arms were straining against the fabric that was attached to the wrists. The legs were tied likewise, and the person shivered knowing that any torture was preferable to what was about to happen. Oleg stood in the corner, dominating the scenery of pale pink textured wallpaper coldly watching the female and knowing- like he had known Lucas- exactly how to play the game for maximum impact. 

“Please” Ruth whispered, dragging her bonds, trying to break them while knowing that her very soul depended on it. 

“Who is John?” Ruth heard Oleg murmur as she dragged on her restraints some more, disgusted by the way she was given her captor the satisfaction of knowing he knew her. Disgusted, but not being able to stop herself. She had been here before- a different place and a different person- she knew the results would be the same and she had promised herself long ago not to go through with it again. She closed her eyes thinking about ‘Lucas’, the John which Oleg was referring too. How simple in her mind the whole puzzle was, and as she regarded her captor, and soon to be rapist, she realised it was only simple to her because she had lived with it: the receiving end of being thrown out of the service. The question remained was not quite as simple: to tell Oleg- and go against an instinct that she couldn’t describe- but ultimately save herself from the fate that was presenting itself slowly and surely to her, or don’t tell and risk not fully understanding the whole situation (she was yet to know why he was on the run and landed himself in a Russian prison. Oleg moved forwards slightly. Times up…. game over. 

“He is the man in the photos” Ruth heard herself say, closing her eyes slowly she counted to ten before opening them again. Shuddering at her own cowardice, trying to reason with herself that she maybe helping apprehend a criminal and trying desperately not to think about her own criminal record- treason and murder being the main two convictions. 

“That is Lucas North” Oleg sneered, to him it all made sense: his precious Lucas, the one home he had broken and subsequently owned… had never revealed his name to his girl who he had professed love for. This ‘girl’ meant nothing to him now- except making as a bartering tool against a much bigger fish: Harry Pearce. But first to ensure that she really didn’t know much about her supposed soul mate. After what the FSB agent thought was a suitable pause he began again. “He is a spook, and I think you know what that means?” Oleg wasn’t sure if it was the gasp followed by unconsciousness, or the look of utter defeat and betrayal that exhilarated him more.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment so I can improve. On an off note this is my skill for my gold level international award (Duke of Edinburgh).


End file.
